


Soaked

by DrabblingSparks (ingenious_spark)



Series: Saint Seiya prompts & short fic [116]
Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Drabble, Fluff, Kid Fic, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Prompt Fic, Rain, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 13:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18411476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenious_spark/pseuds/DrabblingSparks
Summary: Shaka doesn't let a little thing like the pouring rain get in the way when he needs to do something deeply important.





	Soaked

**Author's Note:**

> From a batch of prompts I did over on my tumblr, [@oopsbirdficced](http://oopsbirdficced.tumblr.com). This was previously posted in a drabble collection 'Saint Seiya: Soulmates’, that I have chosen to take down and post individually for ease of access. The premise of all of these was that the first words the soulmates spoke to each other are written somewhere on their skin in the person's handwriting, with a unique color, never black. Black words indicate a dead soulmate. You can touch the words and they will give you feelings that indicate whether the soulmate is romantic or platonic.
> 
> Original author's note: Featuring lil Kiki, rain, Shaka’s stork legs, and a blackout. (Originally posted 9-22-2017)

“You’re soaked to the skin, Shaka, come inside!” Mû frets, drawing him in out of the icy cold mountain rain. Kiki peeks around him, looking up at Shaka curiously.

“Why were you out in the rain? You get sick if you do that,” he pointed out in impeccable six-year-old logic. Mû vanishes deeper into the tower to find towels and dry clothes, returning promptly.

"Kiki’s right, you know. Here, dry off and change. Kiki, do you think you can get the kettle filled up and on the stove?” Mû gently redirects the child, and he obediently patters off.

"It was also raining in Greece,” Shaka observes, unwinding soaked orange cloth from himself quickly, drying off and pulling on the sweatpants Mû gives him. They’re highwater, Mû is shorter than Shaka, but they’re warm and dry. Mû helps him bundle his hair up into a towel, and then shoves a sweater that used to belong to Shion over his head. It fits him rather well. That done, he hands Shaka some hand-knit wool socks and runs off to make sure Kiki is doing okay.

Shaka trails after him, pulling on the socks, and watches Mû lift up Kiki so the little boy can take down one mug at a time with a faint smile. Mû prepares the tea, and Shaka sits at the table. Kiki takes this as an invitation to climb into his lap, and Shaka cuddles the child to him.

“You didn’t say you were coming, Shaka, why didn’t you wait the rain out?” Mû asks worriedly. Shaka smiles a bit more widely, watching the Aries Saint fuss with the tea.

“I had something important I needed to tell you. Something I’ve let slide for too long.” Shaka tells him, voice grave. Mû hands him a cup of tea with a worried expression, and sets Kiki’s mug on the table where he can reach it.

“Be careful Kiki, it’s hot,” he reminds absently. “What is it, Shaka? Is something wrong?”

"I know that, I helped you make it,” Kiki grumbles.

“It’s about our soul bond.” Shaka murmurs, savoring the delicatly floral green tea. He can see that Kiki has some sort of herbal, fruity tea. He knows from experience that Mû’s is black tea prepared the traditional Tibetan way, with salt and butter. Mû looks worried, and Shaka doesn’t want to string this out, so he cuts to the chase. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that our bond is platonic since we met. Its not, it’s romantic.” he says bluntly, and Mû sets down his mug with a dull thunk.

“Ew,” Kiki states from his place on Shaka’s lap, and slides down, taking himself and his tea out to the living room. They heard the TV click on.

“You’re certain?” Mû looks painfully hopeful, and Shaka stands, setting down his tea and walking around the table to cup Mû’s face in still-chilled fingers.

“I am,” he says softly, and bends down, kissing Mû, light and sweet and chaste. When they part, Mû gives him a bright, sweet smile that rivaled sunrises for the most beautiful thing Shaka has ever seen.

“Thank you, Shaka,” he breathes, and stands, curling his arms around Shaka’s neck and drawing him down into another kiss. A bolt of lightning lit the kitchen, and suddenly everything goes dark as thunder growls. Kiki squawks in alarm in the living room, and Mû laughs, warm and helplessly fond.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
>   * Comments not in English
> 

> 
> LLF Comment Builder
> 
> This author replies to comments. It might take a few days/weeks depending on how busy I am, but you will receive a reply.
> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will respond only with an emoji! I will respond only because I have some compulsive tendencies towards replying to comments.


End file.
